Chrysalids Oneshot Collection
by daughterofnemesis
Summary: Pretty much just a collection of oneshots based off of the Chrysalids. Most are requests from classmates, but I welcome requests from the readers! Please R&R! Rated T 'cause I'm paranoid
1. Chapter 1

**Hellooooooooooooo folks! I'm daughterofnemesis, DN for short. Anyway, um... Well, my class just finished reading the Chrysalids, and a lot of the people in the class had things they wanted to change. And when they found out I write fanfiction... Well let's just say this entire thing is pretty much totally based on requests. I'll write when requested by friends or by you guys, the readers. I really like the story, so I'll do my best to live up to your guys' expectations! This is pretty much going to be a collection of one-shots based on requests (like I told you), so be prepared for pretty much anything. Bye guys! Please R&R!**

**Oh yeah and I'll tell you what the request was before you catapult into disaster. So my friend really hates Rosalind X David, and asked me if I could kill off Rosalind (brutally and evilly). So if you like Rosalind avoid this one-shot at all costs.**

**Sorry one last thing... I really really REALLY like Michael X Rachel so don't even think about asking me to break them up. A character death maybe, but just a breakup... No.**

**Disclaimer, then the fic.**

**I own nothing. Sadly. Oh so sadly.**

David kept my thought shapes carefully shielded from the group. Michael and Rachel had finally got to Sealand, which David was of course grateful for, but it made it even harder to keep secrets. Well, one secret in particular. Actually, it was more of a fact than a secret. It was hard to keep it secret though. And the fact was this:

_David didn't love Rosalind.  
><em>

Or maybe it was the other way around, and Rosalind didn't love David. But one way or another, there was a lack of love, and David was naturally perturbed by this.

He had thought he loved her at first, naturally. But there were little things that disturbed him, and when Michael and Rachel had gotten to Sealand, David had observed them. He had never seen a couple more in love, except, he thought at the time, Rosalind and himself. Then he began to notice things.

That look of adoration in Rachel's eyes when she looked at Michael.

The way Michael seem to worship Rachel.

And worse... The way they rarely got into fights, and when they did, it was over quickly and they were both apologizing to each other and laughing and forgiving...

David had thought that he loved Rosalind and that Rosalind loved him, but he began to doubt himself. He hid his thought-shapes well. He had learned to be careful with them, after all, they were in a city of people like him, and he didn't know if he trust them all. No-one knew his doubt. If anyone suspected, it would have Petra, but she was only eight at the time, and didn't know enough to speak up. And so the doubt in David took root, but it is doubtful that it would not have become anything more if it had not been for another fateful day, about a month after the doubt had taken root.

* * *

><p>It had been a taxing day for both Rosalind and David. Rosalind and David were both being educated about their mind shapes, and had had a sort of exam that day. Neither had done very well. Then Rosalind burned their supper, and David dropped a favorite bowl of his, which smashed. Obviously, these seem very minor things to our minds, but both were out of sorts and bad-tempered at the time, and these things made them both a little over the edge.<p>

"Good God woman, can't you do anything right? Now we have no supper!" David spoke sharply to Rosalind, annoyed, for he had rather been looking forward to dinner.

"Well it's not my fault I was distracted by your bowl smashing!" She retorted.

"I will have you know that had I not been helping you by setting the table, that bowl would never have smashed!" David answered back, growing angry now.

"I did not _need _your help thank you very much." Rosalind returned, her voice growing louder every moment. "Now do us both a favor and clean that bowl before someone steps on it and gets hurt!"

"Cleaning is a woman's job, or a servant's, and I will _not _stoop that low under my own roof!" David retorted, his voice equally loud. At this, Petra appeared from upstairs, looking mildly frightened at the loud voices.

"What's going on?" She asked timidly, while she unconsciously projected frightened and confused thought-shapes, which were luckily toned down. Much of Petra's education had been focused on making sure that she did not incapacitate all of Sealand. Rosalind softened considerably at Petra's approach.

"Nothing really darling, you go back to bed. I'll tuck you in soon." She said, giving David a look that clearly meant _we will settle this and we will settle this now before anyone gets hurt and before Petra gets even more frightened. _David returned the glare, but softened his tone while looking at Petra, who had turned to him looking for confirmation of Rosalind's statement._  
><em>

"Of course Petra, everything's fine, now go back to bed and Rosalind will come in shortly." He asserted. Petra nodded timidly and went back upstairs.

"If you wish me to continue being your wife you will never treat me or Petra anything remotely like that ever again." Rosalind said in a quiet dangerous tone. David very slowly nodded. He knew what would happen if Rosalind left him. His social status, which was relatively high, would drop, and the only really important not religious thing his father had taught him was that you should always have a high social status, because then people respected you, and if people respect you, they will follow you. David intended to have high social status.

But if Rosalind left him it would be a scandal. If he left Rosalind it would be worse. There was really only one thing for it. He needed Rosalind to die, still respectable. Then he act grieved for a time and move on with his life. And preferably remain single. Of course though, he would need to wait until Petra was old enough to care for herself.

* * *

><p>Five years had passed, and Petra had recently celebrated her thirteenth birthday. And she was ready and able to take care of herself.<p>

Of course, David and Rosalind's marriage had slowly been fracturing. There had been a time when David had almost renounced all plans of murder, when Rosalind had announced only about three months after he first idea of a plan had begun, that she was having his child. Then the child had died shortly before birth, and Rosalind had announced that she never wanted another child. And so the plan was formulated again. It was so deceivingly simple. But David knew it would work. And now was the time. It was nearing David and Rosalind's sixth anniversary, and David decided to surprise with a boat that he had hired. He made it lovely, with candles and their favorite foods, and a little champagne (expensive but worth it), as David explained. And, hidden below a loose floorboard, some rope and a bag weighed down with rocks. Also a pistol.

His plan was, again, deceptively simple. He would wait until they were far out to sea, and then shoot her. He would place her in the bag weighed down with stones, and tie it with a rope in case she was still alive. He would cast the bag into the deepest area of the sea he knew of, and come back.

And the plan was flawless. It worked like a charm. Rosalind didn't even have time for a terrified thought-shape. And David returned. Everyone asked,

'Where's Rosalind?' but David would only shake his head sadly, adn tell them that she had fallen over and drowned before he could rescue her. When asked why they had not received any thought-shapes, Rosalind _was _a relatively powerful telepathic, he told them that she had knocked her head along the side of the boat and become unconscious.

After a sufficient period of grieving, David returned to his style of living. He never married again, much to the disappointed of a few women, lived a good life, and rarely gave another thought to Rosalind.

End.

**Okay... Sorry if that confused anyone. David's kinda OC in this one. So's Rosalind. And pretty much every character. Don't blame me though! I had to manipulate the characters to make the death plot wor****k. Hopefully you didn't hate this too too much. Anyway, until next time!**

**~Daughterofnemesis (revenge is as sweet as chocolate. Maybe sweeter)**


	2. The wedding

Michael and Rachel's Wedding

**A/N: Hey guys! (If anyone reads this, I'm sure as I have no reviews (Seriously, R&R folks!)). Anyway, as you should know, I'm obsessed with Michael x Rachel, so it's only fitting that I should do their wedding. This doesn't go into much detail as of how they got to Sealand, but that's because that's not what this fic is about. Anyway, most of this is just my inner wedding designer coming out in the form of this fic with my fave pairing possibly ever. It's a **_**leetle **_**over-detailed but who cares. I own nothing. Enjoy!**

Rachel was terrified. Her hands were clammy, her breath rattled a little when she breathed… she was a mess. Why was she so scared? Her wedding to Michael was in only a couple of hours. There had been many, _many, _times when she had thought this day would never come. There were all those times at sea when she was sure she was going to die. She had been sure that they'd be exiled when they got such a frosty welcome at Sealand that the Sealand lady –Sheila – had to intervene and explain. There had been that time when she had been sure that Michael liked that other woman, Lily, and that he'd forsake her. But Michael had been true to the end, riding to Waknuk on a horse that had been left behind at a camp, stealing food for them in the abandoned houses, along with two more horses – one for Rachel and one for their supplies. He had gotten Rachel all the way to Sealand, sacrificing much of his own rations for Rachel. Rachel had been prepared for Michael to hate her because she was the reason he had stayed behind, but they had only grown closer. He had protected her, comforted her, and remained as amazing as ever, and now, his reward was to come. Rachel half-smiled, her panic receding, and thought about their plans for the wedding.

There was a fine, large, and very new church only a short ways away the house Michael had been allotted when they arrived. The preacher was very friendly; nothing like David had described his father as. Rachel had two bridesmaids, Rosalind, the maid of honor of course, whose marriage to David would take place only a week after her own. Rosalind and David had had a long engagement, as Rosalind had wished to wait for Rachel and Michael to arrive before they wed, so as to truly make her the happiest woman alive. It had been very sweet of her, as it was possible that Rachel and Michael could never have arrived. But arrived they had, and they had even made some new friends. Sheila, the Sealand lady, was also not married, and had been shocked when Rachel had asked her to be her bridesmaid. Rachel had explained that as Sheila was the one who had brought them out of Waknuk into Sealand, allowing them their future together, it was only right for Sheila to be her bridesmaid. She had relented.

"Hey, Rachel? Are you okay?" Rosalind asked nervously, bustling over in a pale blue dress that complemented her bronze hair quite beautifully. Rosalind had confessed to Rachel the night before that she was almost as nervous as Rachel herself was, as Rosalind had never participated in a marriage ceremony (much like Rachel), and though there had been rehearsals and practices, she felt unprepared for the real thing. So Rachel waved her off.

"Just nerves. I'll be fine in a second. Now don't you have stuff to do?" She said mock-teasingly. Rosalind colored prettily – she always had been the prettiest in the group – and went off, presumably to make sure Sheila was okay. Now Rachel turned to the mirror. She'd already gotten into her wedding dress, with the help of Rosalind, and she knew she looked nice – Rosalind had said she looked beautiful – but she couldn't help fidgeting with the dress. It was lovely, with short sleeves perfect for the temperature (they were having an autumn wedding, September 15th, to be exact). The dress was fitted in the torso, with fake pearls lining the waist. The skirt poofed out in layers of tulle and silk, with a silver silk lining on the bottom. Rachel was wearing high heels, something which she had discovered while searching for a pair of shoes a couple of months ago. They were the same as normal shoes, only with something in the heel to hold it up, so that it made you look taller. Michael had assured Rachel that he liked short, but Rachel couldn't help loving the shoes. Anyway, her shoes were silver, with a low heel, but a heel nonetheless. Her veil, flipped back at the moment, but it would cover her head once the ceremony started, was lent to her by Sheila, as a start to the poem that Sheila had taught her…

_Something old, _

_Something new,_

_Something borrowed,_

_Something blue._

Something new was obviously nearly everything, the bridesmaid's dresses were blue, and something borrowed was the veil, held back with a silver tiara dotted with (real) pearls. However, the something old was a brooch, silver with a green stone that had been given to her by her mother, shortly before her fifteenth birthday, which had apparently been passed down by the females of that line for quite a while. It was Rachel's most valued possession, and she had never worn it in public, until now. A soft tapping on her shoulder jolted her out of thoughts of her mother.

"It's nearly time to go." Sheila told her softly. Rachel mentally shook herself, and answered

"Alright," quite confidently (she thought she had, at least. In truth, she sounded quite breathy).

* * *

><p>It was time for the wedding. Rachel's mother would have been supposed to go first, but as she had died shortly before the Group had had to flee from Waknuk, she was unavailable, so Sheila's Mother had volunteered to walk down the aisle. Rachel, tears in her eyes, had agreed. Then came the groomsman, Micheal's good friend and neighbor, Christian. Then came the Best man, David Strorm of course. Micheal followed. He looked ravishing. His hair was as lovely as ever, he still entered the room projecting confidence and grace, though maybe a little diminished by the nervous gleam in his eyes. Though the preacher entered, followed closely by Sheila, it took all of Rachel's mind power to tear her eyes away from Michael. Then came Rosalind, catching David's eye and smiling. Then came Petra as the flower girl (she was thirteen, but was the youngest girl they really knew well), strewing rose petals as she walked. She was followed by Christian's son, Luke, bearing the rings.<p>

Then it was Rachel's turn to come down the aisle. Because her father had been killed by the plastic threads, another close friend, John, walked her down the aisle. The preacher asked,

"Who presents this woman to be wed to this man?"

"On behalf of then bride's parents, I do." Was the reply, followed by John lifting the veil over her face, and giving her a brotherly peck on the cheek. _Deep breath. _John left, and she was pretty much alone on the altar except for Michael of course, and the preacher. The bridesmaids and groomsmen had retreated a respectful distance. The ceremony passed in a blur, though Rachel did remember saying the I dos, and before she knew it, the ceremony was over, and people began congratulating her and Michael. And Rachel really was the happiest lady on earth, she thought, as she leaned into Michael and smiled.


End file.
